Abdul Wahab Poverty Poems

Above our heads is the bright moon
Is she busy now with honey-moon?
Under her is the clumsy poverty crone
Dancing naked empty belly with a croon
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I am a proud man
Not because of my wealth
But for my poverty which provides me
Lots of ideas and thoughts
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Poverty is like an iron cover with several holes in it
Through which pass some invisible rays
They fall upon you and you slowly go dry
When they slyly suck up the sap of your body and brain
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Some of my poems
I place to you
To read them out
Read them anyway
...